


Oldest Profession

by Mieldyne



Category: Castlevania (Cartoon)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Forced Feminization, Gangbang, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Prostitution, Shaving, Spitroasting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-11
Updated: 2017-11-11
Packaged: 2019-01-31 21:00:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12690153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mieldyne/pseuds/Mieldyne
Summary: With the money gone, his family home burned to the ground, and being constantly on the run, Trevor finds it quite hard to come across money to survive as of late. So in these desperate times, he finds himself selling his body for some coin, as to not starve.





	Oldest Profession

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lanzelotti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanzelotti/gifts).



> Tagged with Rape/Nonocon just in case for the vibes. A fill for a [Castlevania Kink Meme prompt](https://castlevaniakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/979.html?thread=2259#cmt2259). Also! A buddy also on the meme made a little addition to my fill [HERE](https://castlevaniakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/979.html?thread=10963#cmt10963).

“Hey boys, one at a time. _Please._ ” Trevor utters softly, already drunk and yet feeling as though he’s not drunk enough. Not for this.

It’s been awhile since his bloodline was exiled and his very home taken from him, so now he’s out tripping over himself in the mud and nearly to the point of having to find alternative ways of income. Save becoming a beggar, a Belmont doesn’t _beg_ , no sire. Never have, never will. But he seemed to have lowered his standards enough so that he could take on something more deplorable, in his humble opinion: prostitution.

“You really don’t get to have a say in this, whore.” He can hear _someone_ say, and he winces at being labeled as that, and he’s only begun doing this in the past few days. Now he’s leaning against the counter in a tavern that he swears wasn’t as crowded as it is now, sandwiched between two leering men, with many more around them. Varying appearances, from tall and lean, to stout and round, many have muscles and will use them as they have before to push, pull, and shove Trevor around. Passing him like he’s some kind of cornucopia at a feast.

He’ll really have to try harder to keep his tongue still this time, as the previous night’s earnings were practically none, and he had to move on to an entirely different tavern in hopes of new, albeit less violent patrons. But the hunter doesn’t have his hopes up.

“Look at this, mates. Look how far the Belmonts have fallen, that their little boy here is selling himself for a few measly ducats.” The tall one on his left said, snorting as he grabs for Trevor’s chin, nearly missing when Belmont decided that he doesn’t want his face being touched. His resistance is met with a firm jerk to get him to look up at the stranger. It’s already common knowledge by now that he’s part of the Belmont clan, even when he had tried his best to hide it. But since all he has to wear has his family’s crest splattered all over it, when his cloak was ripped from him earlier, it became hard to lie. The roar of laughter that he got when he professed that he is here to offer himself for sex in exchange for money. Sure made him feel _so very_ wanted… at least they didn’t try to kick him out or start throwing punches, yet.

“You can say what you want, but if you _don’t_ have the ducats, then you _shouldn’t_ be touching the merchandise... which I doubt you have anymore, judging by that beer gut.“ Trevor whispers, brows knotted together and face warped in a grimace. By now he should be used to the reactions he gets from speaking out, but he’s still taken aback by the sudden slap after being released. The brunet winces, holding his still sore jaw from last night, now pain heating up once again just as the tension around him rises. He really needs to keep quiet, but old habits die hard. Just lean back, and think of Wallachia… especially after feeling

“Shouldn’t be bad mouthing your customers like that, whore. Unless you’d like to be sleeping with the pigs again?”

“Shit, don’t do that, he might try to see if he can get coin from them as well! Ha ha ha~!”

“Why stop there? He’d probably just plop himself up in the town square begging for cock, no matter where it comes from. The strays, the passers by, hell, even when night comes the creatures that lurk there too. Stupid dirty slut seems that desperate.”

The hunter-turned-part-time-hooker groans, just sitting there and taking it. Even as his hair and hips are pulled at, being yanked into another man’s lap while the rotund one palms between his legs, not even asking him about how much he’s wanting from all of this. It’s probably better to just accept what they are willing to give him this time, and not complain. He already has enough people treating him horribly, he doesn’t need to give them more fodder for their fiery hearts.

“Hey, he’s already getting hard, did that image in your head give you ideas? Heh, maybe I can go get my hunting dog over here then, let him have a turn too!” That _laugh_ is disturbing, a little more than the very suggestions this man was making. To each their own, he supposes, but he doesn’t see any difference between this man and any common mutt he sees wandering around without an owner.

“Do you really want to add more to the expense? I’m not cheap.” The brunet sighs, just wanting to see how far he can push them, how much he can get away with before they lose their already short fused tempers. From the corner of his eye, he can see the bartender shaking his head and glaring at him. It’s a warning to not cause a fight, and whatever debaucherous acts he’s going to perform tonight is more than what he’s willing to tolerate it seems. Not even going to help him, he sees, even when things get worse than they already are. _Asshole._

“You have a pretty face, you know. Shame about the weakass beard you got going on there, otherwise I could just pretend you’re a woman…” The man’s lips are barely brushing against what hairless skin he has on his cheeks, his dark eyes unfocused on Trevor himself, but his skin, just as the man whose lap the hunter is now seated in. When the lips touch, that’s when he decided to open his big mouth again.

“What women around here are packing downstairs? Please let me know, as she sounds like she’d be more fun.”

Maybe he’s actually a masochist? He expected a slap, but instead he felt teeth on his neck, and a hard squeeze to his crotch. On top of that, the round man grabs the unfinished pint of ale he had and splashes Trevor with it. Not the first and won’t be the last someone wasted a perfectly good drink to douse him.

“Oy, Kane! Ya getting me wet too, idjit.”

“Bloody whore needs to learn his place, and fast. There are better ways for that pretty little mouth to be used for. Like being wrapped around my cock, but not with that fuzz.” The one called _Kane_ speaks, irritated. Not like Trevor cares, they all could be faceless, nameless money bags to him. Now he feels the tall man behind him gesture towards others to hand him a cloth, their shirt, _anything_ to help clean himself up, all while ignoring Trevor, who’s being manhandled once more by the large male. There’s the sound of metal scraping against its scabbard, and soon the Belmont goes still, his chin being raised high and the cold blade of a knife against his jawline.

Shit. This is exactly what he didn’t want. As his ice blue eyes nervously roll over to watch the man’s hand, he swallows hard.

“Hold still, Belmont welp. Or I might accidentally cut your pretty face up more than it already has…” And go still does the brunet, with a frustrated expression the entire time. He feels lips on the other side of his neck now, as “Kane” carefully slides the blade against the way Trevor’s hair grows. He’s… shaving him. The hunter makes a small sound in the pit of his throat, but he doesn’t say anything or move until the man with the knife tilts his chin and they switched sides, the hands still all over him, the lips and soon teeth mark his skin again. He’s going to miss that beard.

“No woman I’ve seen ever had a beard either. Now you’re just one step towards becoming a Venus of a different color. You’re a little more fuckable now, too.” The round man cackles, shoving his knife back on his belt and taking a good look at Trevor now. Of course, the hunter has something to say. Muffled, cheeks being squeezed by the man’s rough fingers, and annoyed at that.

“I’m sorry, but if you wanted to wet your dick in a female whore, there’s some down the street.”

“You think you’re cute, don’t you? You’re here, you’re ready, and we’re all paying. So cut the sass and get on your knees, _madam_.”

And with that, the tall man is give space to shove the drunken Belmont onto the tavern’s floor and stands up. They all are surrounding him now, leering hateful eyes now filled with hot lust expect him to begin performing what they believe he does best. He can hear them chattering, laughing, grasping the front of their pants.

“As I said, _gentlemen_. One at a t-!!!” He didn’t see it coming, one of them had already taken his dick into his hand and looked to have been working himself the entire time Trevor was entertaining the two at the counter. The pervert grunts, shooting his load right onto the hunter’s face mid-sentence and laughs at Trevor’s sudden reaction, reaching to his face in shock.

“Missed _her_ mouth, but that’s alright. _She_ looks so much better with it on _her_ face.” They’re going to treat him this way? Talking down to him because he’s a Belmont, venting their frustrations, and now treating him as if he were like the female prostitutes down the street. But he’s sure they would be given much more respect than he’s clearly not getting. The shit he’d do to survive out here… But he’s going to try and wipe that cooling come off his face now, only to be tuted, and he stops.

“No, slut. You leave that right where it is. There will be plenty more where that came from.”

“Come on, pretty baby. Show us some skin.” Trevor’s eyes are wide and his mouth curled into a snarl, gazing up at the men circling him, looming over him, with some reaching down and tugging at his jacket now. The Belmont’s face is red hot and his body is in a combination of arousal and tension, not wishing to be fully compliant with all of this now. But he sits up on his knees, spots the bartender peering over a glass at the bar again, and keeps his ‘fuck yous’ to himself. Turning away quickly, he allows two different men to tug the sleeves of his jacket after he unbuckles the fastenings and hear it be tossed off someplace else. They attempted to grab at his belt just as he was taking off his boots.

“No.” He swung his arm out to stop them. “I can do the rest by myself, _thankyouverymuch_.”

“Remember who’s paying, and some of us want to have some contact with that milky skin of yours, madam. Who are you to deny?”

“You’d think that a Belmont welp would love someone doing things for them, prissy little princess thinks she’s all grown up now, she can dress herself!”

So they force their hands past his defenses and grab at him anyway, squeezing him and pulling his hair and arms. He just wants to fight back and kick at them, but instead he tries to assist them a bit so that they don’t end up looking like buffoons trying to figure out how to get a belt buckle loose. Eventually all his clothing is torn from him once that’s over, cast aside and the hands are still on him. He gets to his knees just as fingers breech his mouth and he gags, gasps, and waves his hands in the air, landing upon the many arms reaching out to him.

“You think you can fit this in your mouth without biting, princess?” Trevor’s jaw is pulled down from the inside, digits flat against his tongue as to make way for the owner of said fingers’ cock. They caught on his teeth just as they pulled away before being replaced by already dribbling man-meat. Trevor almost gagged when he slid in so far that he could feel the head at the back of his throat. Soon the others join in and get him to wrap his hands around two men as well as have some of them rub his hairless jaw and other places now. Which he hopes doesn’t offend their _precious senses_ as he’s still quite a man, and has hair everywhere else on his body too. Maybe it was just that _one_.

“Fuck me. The filthy Belmont slut came prepared!” He hears behind him. Belmont knew it wouldn’t be long that he had made sure that he’s at least a little braced for this night this time, and this one seemed to notice. Wouldn’t be hard anyway, as the patron’s thick fingers were already knuckles deep inside him. He’s probably using his own spit or a little bit of ale - please let it not be the latter. That shit _stung_ while he was used the previous night.

“Makes me wonder if the rest of them had been doing this sort of thing for more than we know. Could actually have been fucking their way to victory instead of using this thing.”

“Oy, careful with that. It’s probably cursed.” They must be talking about the Vampire Killer. You damn right it’s “cursed” as it would ruin just about anyone who isn’t a Belmont who tries to use it. What a shame that they aren’t _that_ clueless about his family’s ways. Within Trevor’s peripheral vision, he can see his family’s heirloom being passed around carefully, before being placed away from everyone on a table farthest from Trevor. Soon after that, it’s back to fully focusing on the prostitute kneeling before them all.

“Not at all moist, but still a pretty pussy this one has. Look, she’s all gaping and ready for someone to stuff her full again.” Trevor makes a small sound as his mouth is just too occupied to say anything, lowering his eyelids over his unfocused eyes and tries to ignore the continued language against him.

_Just let it go, just get through it, this is just a necessary evil to endure. Soon you won’t starve, for a little while…_

The one behind him is spreading his ass cheeks while others palm his thighs and get down on the floor fully. Just so they can jerk him off, roll his balls roughly, and glide their hard cocks against his skin, hair or not. The lecherous sounds they made at least told Trevor that _they_ are at least enjoying his service so far. Even when he feels the urge to scrape off all his skin immediately after all of this.

“The Princess is much more pleasant when she’s not causing fights or mouthing off, eh? Hold still, I’m going to give you what you _need_ .” What he needs is _money_ , not someone’s chubby stuffed up his rear end, but his thoughts digress. His hips are pulled back some, and he makes another muffled sound as he sucks harder on the one in front of him to not have to think about being sodomized again. Even with how loose he already was, it still felt uncomfortable and hurt just a tad, not as much as it was for the first time. But that felt like a long time ago, after all the cocks he’s had in the past few days. He’s not sure if he’ll ever accept that this is his new life now, to be someone’s sexual outlet that he gets nothing but some ducats for. His surviving family members, wherever they may be, would be sorely disappointed - and most likely disgusted - in learning of his fate. His ancestors also must be doing some kind of strange afterlife gymnastics at all of this, especially when… the Vampire Killer is right there.

He makes the mistake of opening his eyes and glances over, feeling as though he’s being stared at as well. Judged by those who came before him.

The brunet is snapped back into reality, his ice blue eyes rolling to the back of his skull as he’s taken quickly, the bastard not even going slow and slamming right into him in one quick go. He heard a few fucks, and hissing from the man behind him, then winces from the bruising grip onto his hips. He’s told to focus and don’t let him do all the work. There’s more laughing, as drool trickling down his bare chin and his face has gotten hot and red now.

“Fuuck, she’s still tight enough. Just _enough_. Damn, I might end up coming right away, aha ha ha… Your pussy feels good around my dick, dirty little Princess.” Again, with the names. Again with the rough handling and being surrounded by cocks dripping with precome and rubbing all over his back and up his sides. No amount of baths in the chilling waters of the river is going to make him feel better. But Trevor powers through it the best he can, rolling his rear end back and bounces back and forth between the two men spitroasting him, basically. Soon there’s a rhythm going, with the hunter being made to do most of the work eventually.

“What a good whore. Bet daddy would be so proud if he was here to see his little girl perform.”

“Hell! He’d probably get involved.”

“Shame that the Belmont welp isn’t a real woman, I’d love to have made her heavy with child…”

“And break their precious, sacred bloodline? Ha! That would be a good laugh though! Princess Belmont, knocked up by an entire bar of patrons, paid to sit on cocks until she’s about bursting! Who’s the father? Know one knows!”

“Fucking hell… Shut it about the babymaking, you’re killing my arousal. _Cripes_.”

… It went on and on, even as they moved him around and switched up positions themselves, the brunet not having much time to pleasure some of them, as they’ve already were at their peaks as soon as they slid into him and coat his anus and throat with their thick semen. He coughs as he’s released one time, swearing that some of the rancid fluid is creeping up his nasal cavity too. His customers came on his back, in hair, and all over his face as well. He thought that it all would continue on forever. But they all were greedy and wanted seconds, forcing him to look up at them with his soiled face and body, miserable but still too stubborn to call it all off or talk back.

_Just endure it, just a while longer..._

\+ + +

At last, they’re done with him. They did all they wanted, took what they could get and even came for seconds. So now he’s a little bit richer after this, possibly enough money to last almost a week should he play it smart and not blow it all on booze or luxury dining. He survived another night of enduring this kind of treatment, torture in his eyes. But it wouldn’t be the end of it, as when he had been made to crawl, they told him to leave out into the snow. Naked, used, and shamed. Of course they allowed him to cling to his now filled coin purse, but his clothes were being held away, as with his sword, cloak and the, ah no, _the Vampire Killer_ …

So now he’s out in the cold, open winter air, already freezing on top of the shuddering he’s doing as he emptied the contents of his nearly empty stomach on the street. Groaning, he knows he has to go back in there and retrieve his things, hopefully without them laying claim to them and asking for a buyback price. He rather not have to return the money he just painstakingly _earned_ but also does not wish to submit himself to another round of humiliating and unsatisfying sex. Now? Now he’s going to just deal with it and grab fistfulls of snow and clean himself as much as he can, despite shivering and his temperature dropping. He growls and slams his hands into the ground after a while, frustrated and a bit more broken than he was before. But Trevor isn’t shattered yet, and once he can… if he can just get back on his _feet_ that would be _great_ …

It’s only at the very last moment where he realizes that he’s been watched, and said peeping person curiously walked across the street and hovers over him. No, no this is too much. He doesn’t want to get fucked into the mud and sloshy snow, it’s bad enough that he’s using it to try and hopelessly wash himself. But the person above him isn’t trying to ask him for favors, no. What the stranger does ask is… how he’s doing.

“‘Ey stranga, ya feeling alrigh’?” Another accent he doesn’t recognize, from a place that’s probably far, far away from here. Judging by the man’s style of dress and his olive complexion, he’s probably from down further south, maybe. But Trevor really doesn’t care at the moment, the “stranga” needs to mind his own business and go the hell back across the street where he came from.

“I feel and look like shit, also colder than Lucifer’s nutsack. But no, I’m feeling _fine_.” Trevor utters back weakly, trying his damnedest to hide his face, spit out the last of the semen on his tongue and try to curl up and wither away. The foreigner above him makes a small chortle that lasted just a few seconds, then there’s the sound of rustling fabric. Before Belmont knew it, he’s being covered by the man’s heavy winter coat, causing him to flinch only for a second.

“Nana always told ahs ta take care of those in need, if we kin help it. S’ow you make strong bonds. Also, keepit. Ya need it more than I do.” The man states, nodding his head and kneeling before Trevor, giving his shoulder a friendly pat and rub. He’s at arm’s length, as Trevor assumes the guy doesn’t want to crowd him. What a gentleman.

“It’ll only get betta, even if it migh’ get worse first. Ya gotta hang in there, I an’ mah team will be always willin’ ta help.” The man gives Trevor a smile as the brunet relaxes more, even if he’s still devoid of most clothing and wraps the coat around himself more.

“I feel spoiled… and does my savior have a name?” He smirks, sliding his arms through the coat’s arm holes and flips up the hood now. He can still see the generous man give a wide, but friendly grin and casually flicks a finger across Trevor’s eyes, brushing away any wet, stray hairs. They locked eyes - ice blue meeting amber brown - as the stranger introduces himself at last.

“Danasty. Grant Danasty.”

 

**\- FIN -**

**Author's Note:**

> Also I am aware that Grant Danasty is not in the Netflix show (and probably never will) but he's here anyway. Because it made more sense for someone that Trevor would eventually know, and that Grant is generally a nice guy, despite being a thief. He has a code of honor and probably has Robin Hood vibes going on with him.


End file.
